


chill

by alcego



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Because Canon Never Said I Was Wrong, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, James is Bad at Feelings, MFE-Ares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-07-05 20:09:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15870867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcego/pseuds/alcego
Summary: Ina and James have been friends since grade school, and nothing can tear them apart. But when James's world shatters around him, Ina isn't there. She has a crush on him, and they both know it, and neither of them know what to do. Only later will they realize the forces pushing them apart are also keeping them together.Join me in watching these two idiots fall in love, but be warned: it takes desperation to cure heartbreak, and there's plenty of both around.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> fucking kill me this was supposed to be a cute, fluffy one-shot

Ina Leifsdottir was nervous. Not odd, not really, except that Ina had never been one to let her anxiety get the best of her, let alone a mission. It was bum-fuck frustrating, because James couldn’t put a finger on why. What had changed? He was supposed to be MFE-Ares’ leader, the guy who played off of the other’s strengths and adjusted for their weaknesses, and he couldn’t figure out how to work around Ina’s newfound field anxiety. What a joke.

He said as much at lunch because Ina wasn’t there and she hadn’t been for weeks. So far as James knew, she’d been taking lunch in the library. He hadn’t even known the garrison had a library.

“Look, James, it’s not my place to tell you what to do,” Nadia Rizavi said in between bites, about to tell James exactly what to do. “But you gotta like, maybe think about this with your head outside your ass. Extract it, slowly, and look around. You’re not the center of the universe, y’know.”

James glanced at Ryan Kinkade, eyebrows cocked in a cry for help. Ryan raised his eyebrows in response, frown turning the gesture into a look of judgment, not concern. James was on his own.

“This isn’t about you,” Nadia continued scornfully, jabbing her fork in James’s direction, “or your so-called inability to help Leifsdottir manage her anxiety. She’ll get through it sooner or later, and all _you_ need to focus on in the meantime is supporting her. That’s it.”

Rough beginning aside, the advice was sound. So- “Thanks. I think.”

“Anytime, man.” Nadia plucked James’s roll off his plate. “You gonna eat this?” she asked, already stuffing it in her mouth.

James grimaced. “Not anymore.”

Nadia grinned a wide, bready grin by way of response. Beside her, Ryan frowned at his roll before setting it back down on his tray.

James didn’t care about the roll; his mind was still on Ina. Maybe Nadia was right, and this was just a case of growing pains. Clearly meddling wasn’t helping; it was just crowding the space she needed to grow into.

Something about that didn’t feel quite right, but James couldn’t put his finger on what. He stayed out of Ina’s way, and the next week passed with moderate success. Ina’s performance anxiety faded away, for the most part. Still, James couldn’t shake the feeling of _wrongness_ surrounding the situation.

Ina was still avoiding him. Probably just tired, but it weighed on James nonetheless. Ryan, thoughtful as ever, stopped James after practice one night and suggested he take a more objective view of the situation.

Of course, he’d said it in roughly three words and a grunt. James still wasn’t sure how Ryan managed to be eloquent and mum at the same time, but the advice was good (as it always was, with Ryan) and James filed it away for later.

———

James was at wit's end. Another week had passed, and Ina was still avoiding him. He’d checked all of her usual haunts, but it seemed Ina had anticipated even that. So, new plan.

“Hey, Veronica, have you seen Leifsdottir?”

Veronica frowned at her tablet and held up a finger in a universal just a second gesture. James waited, antsy but ultimately directionless. He had nowhere better to be, except maybe studying or practicing or doing anything but this.

Finally, Veronica looked at him. “Yeah, I just saw her. What’s up?”

“I just need to talk to her.”

Veronica smirked. “Oh?”

Shit- “Not like that,” James said, holding up his hands as if to ward Veronica’s assumptions away. “Just, y’know, Garrison stuff.”

“Ahuh, right. That’s what they all say.” Veronica shook her head, sighed, and added, “She’s in the common room.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Veronica.” It was a weight off of his shoulders: Ina was found. How James had managed to overlook the commons was beyond him.

Leaving Veronica to her tablet (and ignoring her curious looks) James went to the common room. At first glance, the room was empty. Worried that he’d missed his chance to talk to Ina, James peeked in farther.

He’d expected to find Ina reading a book, curled up one of the common room’s three couches. Instead, he saw her sitting with her head in her hands, immobile, frozen in time. James thought about approaching her, of letting her know that she wasn’t alone, but the room’s emptiness turned Ina’s pain into a private affair that James wasn’t privy to.

A few months ago, James wouldn’t have hesitated; there’d have been no reason to. But now, with the end of the world approaching, things had changed. Ina had been avoiding him, and James couldn’t take this rare moment of privacy from her.

The talk could wait. It would have to, for Ina’s sake.

———

“Okay,” James said, “What’s the plan?”

Below them, a volcanic wasteland. Bubbles of lava burst, spitting lethal projectiles skyward. They were no less deadly on the way down; rock cooled and shattered into devastating shrapnel upon impact with the desolation beneath.

Wrecked fighter planes were strewn in a gruesome perimeter around the mayhem, their shredded hulls the only visible indication of the Galran outpost at the volcano’s epicenter. An orange parachute waved weakly in the distance, tangled in craggy rock and utterly alone amidst the chaos.

Simulation or not, it was a grisly scene.

“No way we can rush this,” Nadia noted. James was glad; the last thing he needed was to lose Nadia to a reckless approach.

James eyed the scene ahead, maintaining a healthy distance until they’d gathered a plan. “Leifsdottir, any thoughts?”

“Only three ships have made it through the enemy’s preliminary defense; each has approached through the southeastern border. Given our ships’ firepower and speed advantage, this is our best option for entry.”

“You heard her!” James banked to the left and made for the outpost. “Keep an eye out for activity, and _don’t get hit._ We don’t know what they’ve got waiting for us.”

“Roger that!” Nadia said, racing above the carnage.

The earth exploded.

A beast, shrouded in ash and smoke, rose into the air. Impossibly huge limbs struck at Nadia’s fighter. One made contact—Nadia’s shout was drowned out by shrieking interference—and then the beast was falling, returning to the earth it had come from.

Gut twisting, James turned in his seat, tried to find Nadia or her ship or anything—plumes of ash made it impossible. “ _Rizavi?_ Rizavi, do you copy?”

“I’m here,” Nadia gasped. “Can’t get rid of me that easy.”

“What’s your status?”

“One engine’s down, and my wing is sticking.” Nadia groaned. “What _was_ that, anyway?”

Dodging molten debris, James grunted. “No clue, but we gotta keep an eye out for it.”

“Speaking of that,” Ina said quickly, “there are seven fighters coming our way.”

Not good, not by any means, but this was why they’d come. “Okay team, you know what to do! Hit them hard, hit them fast, and keep an eye on the ground. I don’t want to be surprised by that thing again.”

Nadia rogered as Ryan dodged a hunk of molten rock. The team fell into position, one by one. Together, they took out the Galran fighters.

As the last ship fell, Nadia whooped, but James couldn’t share in her excitement. Something was moving in the lava-flow.

Chunks of rock cracked along the crust forming over the lava, the beast’s impossibly large spine parting the earth as if it were nothing. “That thing’s on the move,” he said, because there was nothing else to say.

Rocks shot into the air—no, were _propelled_ skyward, following the beast as it lunged up, into the sky, towards them. Towards him. James stared down its maw, struggled to take in the sight before him.

This was what Lovecraft had written about. Eldritch horrors, beasts larger than life.

Jaws larger than the biggest Garrison cruiser, coming for him.

 _Move._ He needed to get out of the way, fly like he’d never flown before. Distantly, he registered Nadia yelling, “ _What is that thing?_ ”

There was no time to think, to ask questions. They needed a plan; they needed to survive. And James led MFE-Ares: it was his job to find plans and carry them out. Think, _think_.

James flew, dodged, used every maneuver in the book. Did everything in his power to escape the endless void that was the beast’s maw. James saw ashy sky ahead, all around him. He was so close—

An impossibly large tooth scraped against James’s fighter. Jerked him off-balance, skewed his trajectory, destroyed his sense of direction. The beast began to fall back to the earth, taking paint and vital machinery with it.

Head hitting the back of his seat, James grunted. Winced against the sensation of his fighter protesting his every command. Said, “Everyone, sound off.”

One by one, they did. No one had been put out of commission. Now he just had to keep it that way.

Ideas, he needed them. He needed them now.

“What do you think, Leifsdottir?”

Ina’s comm crackled to life. “If it continues following this pattern of activity, it will spend two minutes and thirty-eight seconds below-ground before jumping again.”

The ground rumbled. James’s blood turned to ice. “It’s coming back!”

“Guess it’s not following a pattern, then,” Nadia said, voice tight.

Rocks shook as the beast began to breach. They needed a plan, and they needed it now. _Think_.

He kept it simple. “Rizavi and I will draw this thing’s attention. Kinkade, Leifsdottir, stay out of reach and hit it with everything you’ve got.”

Steering his limping ship into position, James prayed that he’d made the right decision.

He hadn’t. Not by a long shot.

The beast’s erratic movements proved impossible to prepare for, and Nadia’s ship couldn’t handle the second hit. She’d gone down in flames, and James could do nothing to help her. Ryan fell not long after that when a chunk of rock took out his wing and shredded his engine — and Ina? She had fought with James until the bitter end, but there was only so much abuse one ship could take.

He shouldn’t have been the last one flying. Not with the damage his ship had taken. It should have been his ship crashing and burning, not Nadia’s, not Ryan’s, not Ina’s. He should have flown faster, hit harder—anything to keep his crew in the air a minute longer.

But his ship, damaged as it was, had put up a valiant fight. Its lone engine had sputtered, taken him through all of its paces, gotten him through impossible dives—and it still hadn’t been enough. In the end, James still wound up in the belly of the beast.

The simulator’s screen dimmed. _Simulation Failed_.

It should have been him.

———

James was brooding. He wasn’t too proud to deny it. Today’s practice had gone horribly, and James couldn’t shake the feeling that it was his fault.

It had all felt so _real_. Their simulators had responded in real time, shaking and sputtering and spinning, and the Garrison’s imaging software continued to push the bounds of reality.

His team had given their best, and they had failed anyway. There was a lesson hidden in there, James was sure, but he was too drained to try and suss it out.

Instead, James pulled MFE-Ares’ files up on his tablet. Ryan had suggested a more objective approach to helping Ina, and what better way to shake the demons from his mind than a little research?

Neat graphs displayed his team’s data, compared their reaction times, mental acuity in different scenarios, target accuracy, all of it. Any skill they might need out in the field was labeled in a small serif font. MFE-Ares, digitized.

James pored over the information, compared Ina’s recent data to that of a month earlier, tried to find the catalyst for her sudden slippage. Minutes passed like hours as the raw data burned into his memory. Groaning, James tossed his tablet onto the mattress.

There was quantitative proof of Ina’s change of temperament, but James had no idea what any of it meant. He’d expected to find some blip in Ina’s scores that had fostered her anxiety, something to suggest why Ina was struggling. But there was nothing of the sort: Ina’s scores had been consistently phenomenal, until one day, they weren’t.

As if that wasn’t confusing enough, there was an anomaly in the data. Three days earlier, Ina’s scores had been excellent. Then they’d returned to the wavering lines of mediocrity that had been plaguing Ina for weeks.

What was he doing? James was a pilot through and through; he knew the ins and outs of flight patterns, could play each scenario to his crew’s strengths, twist his crew’s weaknesses until they were nothing more than a hidden asset—but raw data? It was a language he didn’t speak.

His head hit the wall with a _thunk_.

The door _thunked_ in response.

James froze. Heart beating double time, he thought of the garrison issued gun locked in his closet safe.

Someone knocked on the door. The tension left James’s body in an instant and he chided himself for getting so worked up. There was nothing strange here, just a person knocking at his door.

James opened the door as his visitor knocked again. Ina blinked at him, hand raised in knocking position a moment too long before returning to her side. James couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her; this was a welcome surprise.

Stepping out of his room, James asked, “What’s up?”

Ina flushed and took a step back. She didn’t meet his eye, but that wasn’t strange, for Ina. Her sudden interest in the barrack’s polished floor was, though.

Ants crawled on James's nerves; Ina’s tension was palpable, almost contagious. Whatever had her worked up, it meant a lot to her. So, by virtue, it meant a lot to James.

Ina pried her eyes away from the floor, looked towards James instead. She took a deep breath. Said, “I’d like to apologize for my behavior over the last few weeks. I’ve been a hindrance to the team’s training, and I wanted you to know that I have everything under control.”

James blinked. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

Impossibly, Ina got stiffer. Really, high command would have been impressed with her posture if it didn’t look like she was about to faint.

“I’m not mad at you, Leif,” he promised. “Really. I’m just worried.”

Ina laughed, desperate and breathy. She looked at the floor, at the wall, at James. A silly, relieved smile brought out the roundness of her cheeks, and the freckles splashed across them. “Oh,” she said. “I’m fine, Griffin, really. It’s just—” she fidgeted with the end of her orange cadet’s jacket “—it’s just me stuff.”

“Ahuh.” James crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, eyebrows raised. “I haven’t seen you this worked up since fourth grade.”

“ _James,_ ” Ina hissed, face flushing a brilliant red. “You said you wouldn’t bring that up!”

James laughed and shrugged, all shoulders. He slipped farther down the wall and stayed there. Rested his head against the wall, too, because this was good. He’d missed teasing Ina.

Laughing, James said, “It was just a crush.”

Somehow, Ina’s face grew redder, the flush creeping into her ears and down her neck. The floor reclaimed her attention. Ina’s mouth moved, as if to speak, but froze before any sound came out.

James frowned. Tried to decipher this new conflict written on Ina’s face—and found something he’d never expected.

Neither Nadia nor Ryan had expressed concern over Ina’s nerves, and they hadn’t been surprised when James, tired and confused, had complained that Ina was avoiding him. The same day that Ina’s scores had been normal, James had been absent, called to a debriefing during MFE-Ares’ scheduled training hours. And the last time he’d seen Ina so destructively anxious, she’d been head over heels for a boy in the grade above them.

Ina liked him. Romantically.

James forgot how to breathe, how to think, could summon no response to this discovery. Everything fell into place: the way Ina looked at him with eyes that could hold the moon; stumbling speech that paved the way for bashful silence and relieved laughter; soft, daring hands finding their homes on elbows and shoulders and wrists.

How had he missed the signs? James knew them all, inside and out. He’d ridden through each of Ina’s past crushes, teasing her about the boys she liked and gently prodding for more when Ina said maybe she liked a girl this time. He could read Ina better than anyone.

So how had he missed _this?_

James put a hand against the wall, pushed his body away from it, willed his head to stop spinning as his world realigned itself. He rubbed his face with his free hand. “Leif…”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Ina said, words clipped and rushed. Forced neutral. “Like I said, I’ll take care of it.”

Ina left. Turned around and walked away, arms stiff by her sides and neck flushed a brilliant red.

James was at a loss. In all of their years together, he’d never stopped to consider this as a possibility. Of Ina liking him, of the awkwardness therein—he could barely comprehend what would happen if they got together.

Not that they would. That would mean James also had romantic feelings for Ina, and he was pretty sure he would have noticed something like that.

James went back into his room, shutting the door behind him. On the bright side, he knew why Ina had been acting weird. Now he just had to figure out how this new information fit into his carefully arranged view of the world.

Ina liked him. It was a strange thought, one that he’d never entertained but should have anticipated, if nothing else. He was distantly aware of falling into bed; his body was removed from this, his mind working overtime to put the pieces together.

What did this mean? For him and Ina, for MFE-Ares?

Did Nadia and Ryan know?

Oh god, there was no way they _didn’t_ know. Nadia’s frustrated lectures and Ryan’s disappointed frowns took on new meaning. James’s stomach did a complicated flip as the rest of his team joined the maelstrom of change, rearranging themselves in this new light.

What else had James missed? There were so many things he didn’t know, so many unspoken rules that had been turned on their heads in an instant, and James was lost in the chaos of the unknown.

It was going to be a long night.

———

End of the world or not, class was still in session. Even when James had barely clocked three hours of sleep. Luckily, the garrison was focusing on the basics: aeronautics, physics, strategy. Still, it was enough to make life crowded for an active piloting crew.

As if to make up for this cramped lifestyle, the garrison had situated classes on opposite sides of the base. Something about aeronautics requiring demonstrations and analyzations of ships.

So, on his way from physics to aeronautics, James let his mind wander. It was a rare luxury, a pleasantry James couldn’t afford in most aspects of his life.

James liked to keep his personal and professional lives separate. Compartmentalizing allowed him a sense of security that was near impossible to come by during times of war. Ina straddled the line between the two.

They’d been friends for as long as he could remember, going through grade school together and applying to the garrison together. Ina felt permanent; she had always been there, following her own simple routine, just as she always would. Even when they’d been separated during basic flight combat, they’d kept in touch.

She was his anchor, his tether between worlds. James was friendly with Nadia and Ryan, but there was a distance there. He’d long since given up on maintaining a professional relationship with them—Nadia had nearly insisted on it—but what they had going fell far short of personal.

Something must have changed between him and Ina. Something that made her flustered around him, that put the thought of his lips on hers in her mind.

Flushing, James shoved his hands into his neatly pressed pockets. Surely she hadn’t thought of him like that.

But what if she had?

That was ridiculous, but not implausible. Hell, if Ina really did have feelings for him, wouldn’t the thought have crossed her mind from time to time? Yes, he decided, it absolutely would have.

Which was all the more reason he _shouldn’t_ be thinking about Ina’s lips, or the whisper of her breath against his cheek, or the tickle of her hair against his hands. Fantasy was a line he could not cross, romance an indulgence he could never allow himself.

But what harm could his imagination do? It would help him better understand where Ina was coming from, why she was anxious, and what he could do to ease her discomfort. Besides, this was his time for wandering thoughts; a little daydreaming wouldn’t hurt anyone.

———

Emotions were strange, callous things, and James didn’t know what to do with them. Especially Ina’s. He felt stunted and useless in that regard, as if he’d been raised by mannequins and not his wonderful, doting parents.

Around him, people went about their lives, getting their food and laughing and joking with their friends. James didn’t know how they managed to stay sane through it all, let alone how they navigated the emotions painted across everything they did.

A girl behind him cleared her throat. Right, cafeteria line. Gotta keep moving.

Grabbing his tray of garrison issued slop garnished with a short mound of french fries, James wound his way through the cafeteria towards the table his team was occupying. There was Nadia, lounging comfortably over the expanse of Ryan’s shoulders, and there was Ryan, smiling at whatever joke had brought on Nadia’s mirth.

And then there was Ina, sitting across the table from them and leaving an empty spot next to her.

It felt so normal, as if the past few weeks had been nothing but a fever dream, as if Ina didn’t have feelings for him—as if James’s mind wasn’t stuck on Ina’s lips and hair and nose. Ina had made a home for herself, nestled within the confines of James’s head, and he hadn’t noticed until now.

James swallowed, forcing himself to act natural and failing miserably as a result. Ina couldn’t look at him; instead, she stared at the table, as if that would make this less awkward.

He’d hesitated for too long; Nadia had noticed.

“Yo, Griffin, you forget how to walk or something?”

James just shook his head in response and sat down in the empty spot left for him. Even with three solid inches of space between them, James could feel Ina’s presence burning into his skin. She was there, and he knew it, and that was enough.

Nadia looked between James and Ina, eyebrows pinched, lips pulled into something knowing and concerned. Then she sighed, shook her head, and said, “That simulation was brutal.”

Every fiber of James’s being tensed. Heart racing, he closed his eyes and counted. _One—there’s nothing wrong—two—we're here now—three…_ It helped, sometimes.

Not today.

Ina cleared her throat. “Our performance, considering the odds set against us, was nearly perfect.”

And they’d still lost. James stared at his food, appetite gone. The failure felt like his fault. It _was_ his fault; he led MFE-Ares. He should’ve found a way to get everyone through the simulation in one piece.

A foot slammed into his shin.

“ _Ow—_ ” James glared at Nadia “ _—what_ was that for?”

“You’re brooding. Stop it. We’re at lunch; we don’t brood at lunch. It’s in the rules.”

James continued glaring. “I’m not brooding.” (He was.)

Nadia didn’t bother responding to that. Then she _hmphed_ , rolled her eyes, and said, “Yeah, you are,” followed by, “You’ve been weird all day, man. What’s going on in that big ole head of yours?”

James tried not to glance at Ina—really, _really_ tried not to—but his day had been littered with failure, and it wasn’t looking to clear up any time soon. Nadia’s smirk said that she’d seen; she always noticed the embarrassing stuff.

But she had the decency to be quiet about it. Whether she knew about Ina’s _emotions_ was still up for debate, but Nadia had a good heart. If only good hearts could keep awkward silences at bay.

Each bite lasted an eternity, with James pretending he wasn’t hyper-aware of Ina’s presence and resolute silence. Not even her hands were speaking; she simply ate, each motion mechanical and stiff.

And then she was standing, collecting her tray and leaving. Nadia watched her go with a frown. Ryan’s face remained stoic, thoughtful, steady through everything, as always. James could only stare at his tray, helpless and alone in the labyrinth of his mind.

Emotions. Who knew _those_ were James’s weakness?

“Okay,” Nadia said, eyes burning. “What happened?”

James ground his teeth together. Closed his eyes. Opened them and asked, “What?”

Ryan snorted and gathered their trays. Nadia shot Ryan a look, and James couldn’t tell if she was thanking him or cursing him. With Nadia, it could easily be both.

“ _Don’t_ play dumb with me, Griffin. You and Leifsdottir. Something happened. What?”

Last names. Those were never a good sign outside of combat. “If something _did_ happen,” James said stiffly, “that’s between me and her.”

“Ahuh. Right.” Nadia scoffed. “That’s why you can’t even sit next to her without shoving an icicle up your butt.”

Ryan set the stack of trays down on the table and crossed his arms. James sitting across from both Ryan and Nadia, felt cornered despite the table between them.

“Whatever happened,” Ryan said, “it’s hurting both of you. Fix it.”

_Hurting? Both of us?_

James blinked. Ryan picked the trays back up and left to dispose of them.

Dumbly, James realized that he missed Ina. Missed her laughter, soft as it was; missed her wits, sharper than anyone he’d ever met and wielded with razor precision; but most of all, he missed her. Ina’s gentle breathing as she studied for a final, and the soft clatter of her fingers dancing across a keyboard, writing up a report, and her pouting, kissable lips—

There it was again. _Kissing._ Why was that all he could think about lately?

Nadia made as if to continue her lecture. But she stopped, mid breath, and eyed James. He shook his head.

There was nothing to say. James left the cafeteria, hyper aware of Nadia’s eyes boring holes into his back, and headed to his next class.

———

Hours later, standing in line at the printer and shoving thoughts of Ina’s lips and neck and wrists from his head, James put a name to what he was feeling. _Attraction_.

_I have feelings for Ina._

Not life-altering by any means. Just… surprising, in the way the sun peaking through clouds after a thunderstorm is surprising. Expected, but lost to the layers of happenstance and memory.

How to explain it? His stomach didn’t lurch or churn or flip as the words crossed his mind. Instead, his heart cried, and his chest felt lighter because of it.

It was a dull surprise.

But it was the truth.

And James felt more lost than he had before.

What was he going to do?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions are tricky things and James isn't used to navigating them. Luckily, he's got some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for your patience & support--it's been absolutely marvelous talking to everyone, and i'm super excited to be sharing this chapter with everyone. unfortunately school, work, and health issues have been kicking my ass lately, so i'm not sure when the next chapter will be up. hopefully soon, but knowing me,,, ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. i _will_ be finishing this fic, tho, so please don't worry about that. it may take time, but we'll get there.
> 
> for now, please enjoy the second chapter of _chill_!

Three sleepless nights gave James time to think about his situation. Talking to Ina was the reasonable thing to do, but it was risky. Rationally, James knew that romance wasn't an option, but his heart craved something new.

There was no doubt in James's mind that if he came to Ina without a game plan, his heart would do the speaking. That was unacceptable, and it was a risk he would not take. Planning, however, was becoming a bigger issue than he'd anticipated.

James had never engaged in a detailed conversation on romance. Dating had never taken priority over his studies, and James had never taken the time to pursue this strange desire. For the most part, he had merely smiled, nodded, and sent his suitor on their way with a polite denial hung around their shoulders like a consolation prize.

He wished he'd given himself more time to explore social etiquette. There was no time to study now, and James wouldn't be able to live with himself if he let Ina go without knowing the truth of things.

James had kept the world at a distance while Ina had lived and loved and lost. There was a sort of irony hidden in Ina's love life and James's distinct lack thereof—his romantic exploits had come second-hand, through hear-say and meal-time gossip.

Steam stung his eyes. James had gone numb to his shower's scalding heat long ago. The redness of his skin was the only testament to his body's discomfort.

With the threat of a fourth sleepless night hanging overhead, James shut off the water and began toweling himself off. He needed advice.

He needed to talk to Nadia.

Towel wrapped around his waist, James slipped out of the garrison's communal showers and headed to his room, ignoring the habitual mocking of his fellow cadets.

The door to his room closed with a click. Knowing Ryan would be at the gym, James hung his towel over the back of his desk chair before pulling a pair of sweats and t-shirt from his dresser. Donning his clothes, James weighed his options.

Loitering by Nadia's door raised the risk of running into Ina, her roommate. James didn't want to take the chance.

Meeting Nadia in a neutral location would eliminate that complication. James's phone sat on his desk, screen dutifully dark and void of notifications.

He texted Nadia.

**outgoing: James Griffin**

_Nadia, would you meet me in the common room? I need to talk to you._

**incoming: Nadia Rizavi**

_y do u type like an old man griff? is ur inner self tryna escape?_

**outgoing: James Griffin**

_…_

**incoming: Nadia Rizavi**

_yeyeye don't gimme that look_

_i'll be there in five_

Good—this was good. This would give him time to regroup and plan. Talking to Nadia was something he could do easily. Normally, anyway. James prayed that Nadia's questions would remain shallow; James didn't know what he'd do if she delved into deeper waters.

Five minutes found James in the carefully structured chaos of the common room. Three cadets lounged by a pool table in the far corner, too tired or too ignorant to bother with the game itself. James pretended he didn't see the drinks sitting on the pool table, violating protocol.

An old cartoon played on the flatscreen directly across from the cadets. The low hum of animated catastrophe softened the room's white and orange palette. It almost dissolved the room's military feel, but posters covering basic protocol, evacuation routes, and mapping out the garrison held the common room's true nature intact. There was no escaping their real purpose here; they were a world at war.

James shuddered and tried to shove unwelcome evaluations of his monstrous failure from his mind. An invasion was imminent, and James's confidence in his ability to steer MFE-Ares through every conceivable scenario was cracking.

James sat at a dining table in the corner across from the door. Nadia would be able to see him as soon as she came in, and James could keep an eye on his surroundings.

Crumbs on the table pushed into the bottom of James's arms. Grimacing, he swept the offending bits into his palm. He'd throw them away on his way out.

Nadia chose that moment to arrive. "Saving those for later?"

James scowled and dropped the crumbs into a napkin.

Laughing, Nadia pulled a stool over to the table. Pointedly ignoring the sour look James sent her way, Nadia perched on the edge of her stolen seat. It boosted her a solid six inches above James. _I have the high ground, Anakin._

James took a deep breath. Arguing wouldn't do anything to help his cause. Better to get straight to the point. "I need to talk to you, Nadia. It's, um, serious."

Nadia's demeanor shifted. "MFE stuff?"

Shit. Maybe don't phrase things like the world's already ended. "No, nothing like that. Just, personal. Y'know."

"I'm not sure I do," Nadia said slowly, frowning as she leaned back on her stool. "But I get the feeling you're about to tell me."

James' face was burning. "Yeah. Guess I am." He swallowed. Tried to collect his thoughts, make them into words.

Acutely aware of Nadia's eyes on him and the cadets in the far corner of the room, James said, "I have feelings for... someone."

"How specific." Nadia raised an eyebrow. "Anyone I know?"

James cleared his throat. "Actually, yeah." He swallowed. Why was he doing this again? _For closure._ He looked up and met Nadia's eyes. He would do this right, or not at all. "Ina."

Biting back a smile—grimace? scowl? James couldn't be sure—Nadia nodded. Then she shook her head and laughed. Her eyes flashed playfully as she asked, "What's there to talk about, then?"

"I don't know." Running his hand through his hair, James laughed nervously. "I've never—hell, Nadia. I've never done this with anyone. I don't even know where to start."

Nadia's smirk fell into something softer, gentler in its mocking. "Are you going to ask her out? Is this you asking for help or something?"

"Or something." James scoffed. "I couldn't ask her out, even if I wanted to."

"Why not, man?" Nadia demanded, leaning forward with her hands on the table to keep her from overbalancing. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, Nadia," James said dryly. "You looked out the window lately?"

Nadia scowled. "Whatever. We're prepping for an alien invasion; doesn't that mean you should ask her out now, while you still can?"

"Not really, no," James said. "We need to focus on training so that we're ready for anything that those alien bastards throw at us."

"So you're asking me to help you turn Ina down."

James groaned and dropped his head into his hands, fingers threading their way through his hair. "No," he said. "She doesn't even know I like her."

Nadia huffed. James could almost imagine the fire in her eyes as she sat back on her stool and threw her hands up in the air. He didn't need to see her to know what she was doing; their drills had paid off.

They both took a moment to regain their composure, and James risked a glance at the cadets hanging around the pool table. They were still talking, unconcerned with the heated discussion happening across the room.

Finally, Nadia said, "Exactly what do you want my help with?"

"I feel like I'm lying to her," James said softly.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

James felt drained. "I'm not," he said, frustration draining from his gut, leaving behind the blasted emptiness that had haunted him for days. "I don't do these things, Nadi. I don't even know where to start."

"Well," Nadia said, "first thing's first: you need to consider Ina's feelings. She..." Nadia trailed off. "Well, what do you think she feels?"

James smiled into the crook of his elbow. Nadia was a good friend. Not just to Ina, but to him. No matter how rigid James was, Nadia kept up with him, kept him from tearing himself apart with routine and study and work. He had made the right decision. Looking up, James shook his head. "She told me she liked me. Kind of. Not in so many words, but—"

"Got it." Nadia was smiling, but her eyes were heavy. "So is that what all this is about? Leveling the playing field?"

Was it? "I hadn't thought about it that way," James said, "but I guess it is."

Nadia kicked the leg of his chair. "So what do you need me for, exactly?"

"Help me tell her. I need a game plan."

"Of course." Nadia leaned back and sighed. "You don't have your favorite strategist to turn to, do you?"

Donning a grim smile, James shrugged.

Nadia scowled fondly. "You're such a freaking dork, Griffin, I hope you know that."

"Not a day goes by without you reminding me."

"Good," Nadia nodded sagely. "All is right with the world."

"Who's the dork again?"

"Says the guy asking me to help him not confess to the girl he likes."

James raised his hands in surrender. "Okay! You got me. Now, can you help me or not?"

Eyes shining in the light, Nadia steepled her hands under her chin. "Of course I can, Griff-griff. Who do you think you're talking to?"

"Sure you want me to answer that?"

———

Three hours and five scrapped plans later found James standing in the hallway outside Ina's room. He rechecked his phone, ensuring that Nadia really had sent the all clear and that he hadn't imagined all of this.

His heart pounded in his throat. This was a bad idea. What was he thinking, coming to talk to Ina like this? She didn't need to know—nobody needed to know—

Breathe. James was just here to talk to Ina. Ina, whom he'd known forever. He could talk to her about anything. Because that's all this was: a talk.

...about feelings that he shouldn't even have. Fuck. This was more complicated than James had anticipated, and he hadn't knocked on the door yet.

Swallowing his heart, James knocked on the door. Immediately, he heard the sound of a book shutting and covers rustling. Ina must have been doing some reading before bed. James's heartbeat steadied; there was comfort in Ina's innate routine.

The door opened, and Ina looked out at him. She blinked. Said, "James."

"Ina." James couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips, let alone the pained crinkle of his eyes. "I— _we_ need to talk."

Ina glanced back into her room and sighed before joining James in the hallway, shutting the door behind her. She wrapped her arms around her waist and eyed him carefully.

Right. James had something to say—feelings to confess. His tongue was dry and heavy in his mouth as if someone had stuffed it full of cotton while James wasn't looking. "I, uh. About the other day. And your feelings—"

"James," Ina said, jaw tight, "that was nothing. It means nothing."

His gut churned. Did she mean that? "Your emotions mean something, no matter how awkward they are."

Ina flinched, an apology on her lips.

Shit- "That's not how I meant that. Look—" James shook his head "—what I'm trying to say is that it isn't fair for your feelings to be out in the open while mine are still a secret."

Ina's eyes were wide, her knuckles pale. "Your feelings?"

"My feelings _for you_. I don't know—I guess realizing how you felt about me opened a room full of possibilities that I'd never considered, and I don't know what to do." James frowned, eyes burning. He locked eyes with Ina. "I don't know what to do."

Ina's hand ghosted over his shoulder, gentle and concerned and practiced. "James," she said, "you don't have to do anything."

The heat beaded at the corner of his eyes, and James laughed bitterly. "I guess I knew that," he said. "But I don't know how to do nothing."

"I think we will have to learn," Ina smiled, soft and sad, and removed her hand from his shoulder. "Together."

James missed her hand and its comforting warmth. That was ridiculous. There was nothing to miss; Ina's hand wasn't his, and he had no right to yearn for it.

"You're right," James said, forcing a smile. His heart ached for contact, for Ina's lips and hands and smile, but his resolve stayed steady. "Thanks, Ina," James said, turning to leave. "For being here for me."

"Always."

The word echoed through his head on the walk back to his room. This talk was supposed to fix everything, and in a way it had. There could be no misconceiving what had happened, and there was no questioning what lay ahead of them. He should feel better.

Why did he feel so hollow?

———

Beeping in his ear. Obnoxious, off-rhythm blaring sirens on his bedside table. His alarm.

James didn't move. Maybe if he ignored it for long enough, the damn thing would go straight to snooze. Five more minutes of sleep...

A pillow hit James in the back.

Groaning, James covered his face with his sheets. It was too early for this.

"Turn it off," Ryan said from across the room, voice muffled by his pillow.

By way of response, James rolled over and fumbled for the offensive alarm clock. The buttons were alien and strange to his sleep-numbed fingers. Squinting, James tried to remember which button would stop the beeping. His fingers remembered first; muscle memory was a wonderful thing.

Slowly, James set the alarm back on his bedside table. His glasses sat in a case next to it, but James didn't bother with them. Instead, he yawned and stumbled out of bed, shuffling in the direction of his running shoes.

Following a rhythm he'd built up over several years, James got ready for the day. First a lap around campus. Then to the bathroom for a shower, contacts, and clothes. Then back to his room to bother Ryan into consciousness and gather his wallet and keys.

A groggy Ryan left the room and returned a few minutes later, dressed and ready for the day. Years of experience told James that Ryan wouldn't be fully awake for another fifteen minutes at least, so conversation wasn't on the table. They walked to the cafeteria in silence. James was fine with that.

Mornings were supposed to be quiet.

"Yo, Griffin!" Nadia appeared next to James, smile too enthusiastic for this hour of the morning. Her shoulder dug into James's bicep, and she blinked coyly at him. "How'd it go?"

James sighed. "It went."

"Oh." Nadia frowned. "Guess I should've seen that coming. Anyway, Griff-griff—"

"Do me a favor," James said, setting a bowl of oatmeal on his tray. "Never call me that again."

Nadia snorted. "Whatever, hater. Look, since I did you a favor last night—at great personal expense, I might add—I was thinking that you could do a little something-something for me."

James eyed her too-innocent grin. "Like what?"

"Well," Nadia drew the word out and leaned back, pretending to think. "I could never say no to something sweet and savory."

James snorted. "You just want me to buy you candy."

Nadia shrugged the apt accusation off. "It's the least you can do."

"Fine." She wasn't exactly wrong. "I'll get you gummy worms from the commissary later."

"Ew, no." Nadia wrinkled her nose. "Please tell me you don't think gummy worms are savory."

"They're better than what the garrison tries to pass off as cinnamon rolls."

Behind them, Ryan sighed and put a cinnamon roll back on its tray. Another day, another victim saved. Those globs of congealed cinnamon were deadly.

"There's a whole spectrum of food between _gummy worms_ and _deadly cinnamon rolls_ , James!" Nadia said, shaking her head. "Boys. There's no use being subtle with you."

"Hey—"

"Don't argue, it's true. Look—" she sighed and grabbed a banana from a bowl "—just get me one of those chocolate muffins, and we'll call it a day."

This was how James spent a full dollar and thirty-six cents more than he'd intended to on breakfast, in a telling lead-in to the most awkward meal of his young life.

Exalting over her choclately triumph, Nadia pestered Ryan into digging out his camera to preserve the moment for all eternity. Nadia's posturing and Ryan's subtle enthusiasm for the impromptu photo-shoot made for an odd sight at eight o'clock in the morning, and James couldn't tear his eyes away from the train wreck in front of him.

So thrilling was their tomfoolery that he almost didn't notice Ina slipping into the seat next to him. But he knew her warmth, and her rapt attention, and the way her hands grasped her tray. James would know her anywhere, and she was here.

His body was attuned to hers, desperate for her touch, for the attention her hands, but held rigid by discipline and by fear. He needed to act normal, behave as he always did. After all, nothing had changed. She was still Ina, and he was James, and they had known each other since grade school. Praying that his voice would hold, James rode the tension with a neutral, "Morning."

Ina yawned her response. James didn't have to look to know her dead eyes, or the tilt of her lips as she considered a verbal response but failed to find any way to carry it out. Mornings: their shared weakness.

He could have settled into a comfortable rhythm, content with Ina's nearness, if not for what came next.

Nadia slid into the seat across from James and pointed her plastic fork at him. "I want to review that last sim—the freaking impossible one that Iverson threw at us."

"Commander Holt designed that simulation," Ina corrected.

James fought to swallow his oatmeal. The texture felt changed, feeling slick and slimy rather than energy-efficient and straightforward: like wet cardboard instead of food.

"Yeah, well it was total horseshit," Nadia continued, oblivious to the cold sweat James felt across his forehead. "I want to know who thought that was a good idea and I want to know why they decided to throw it at us. It's not like we have enough on our plates as is—no! They have to pile unbeatable simulations on top of it all."

Unbeatable? James shook his head. "There must have been a way to beat it." He felt weak. "We just didn't find it."

"No," Ina said, "the strength of our opposition was matched specifically to target our fighters' limitations. Even at our best, our options were limited."

"There should have been a way," James argued. "Even if we couldn't beat it, we should've been able to get out of that simulation with our fighters in flying condition."

"We did everything we could," Ryan said.

They had. They had used every trick in the book, and yet. "It still wasn't enough."

The table fell silent.

James felt brittle. Now more than ever he needed to be vulnerable, needed to talk to his team and open up, but he didn't think he could. Instead, James left the cafeteria, taking his tray and baggage with him.

He couldn't talk about that stupid, impossible simulation replaying every horrible event in the back of his mind. It was too much to deal with, so James didn't bother.

It was safer that way.

———

With the threat of an alien invasion creeping ever closer, classes were being cut short with increasing frequency. James lacked the clearance for detailed information, but high command had been calling their sharpest minds into meetings for weeks. It seemed they were hashing out new contingency plans.

Not a comforting thought.

James found himself in the library in the interim, fascinated by the aesthetic feel of the room. Most of the garrison's reading material had been transposed into digital formatting a decade ago; James hadn't held a physical book in years.

There was a definite difference between reviewing strategy on his tablet and poring through a book in a library. He could feel the ink and the grain of the paper against his fingers, almost as if he could absorb the information through his skin. Textbook osmosis.

Smiling into his book, James mosied towards his table—where Ina sat. She hadn't been there when he'd left, and James wasn't sure if she'd meant to sit next to him. It was a silly thought—a stupid fear—but it persisted nonetheless.

Ina wasn't the sort to sit next to people unless she wanted company, but she hadn't been sitting next to James often of late. Instead, she'd avoided him or put Ryan in between them. It was safer that way.

So why the change? James couldn't be sure, but he was making a fool of himself by standing in the middle of the library, staring at Ina.

And what a fool he was, acting like this behavior was out of character. He'd spent years cozied up next to Ina in the common room, reviewing military material and flight theory and embroiling the strategy into their being.

It'd seemed over the top at first. An unnecessary collection of information that would never see a battle. Now it was expected to save the world.

That was beside the point. James was stalling, avoiding the decision he had to make by falling into comfortable memories. His relationship with Ina had shifted, changing the rules into unforeseen patterns and expectations. James had no idea what to do with this; he'd never been in this situation. Hadn't wanted the complications.

To move or not to move, that was the question. And it needed an answer now before James simply phased out of existence.

In the end, it wasn't much of a decision at all. He couldn't cut Ina out. She'd been in his life for so long that she'd become a part of him.

Mind made, James slid back into his seat, trying to be casual despite Ina's unexpected presence. James sighed—this was easier than he'd expected, like falling into bed at the end of a long day.

Ina looked up from her book, eyebrow raised.

"What'chu reading?"

"I am reviewing our ships' blueprints, as Commander Holt has adjusted their thrust capacity to better allow for fuel integration."

Right, they'd heard that at a debriefing that morning. "I haven't had a chance to look those over yet. Mind if I join you?"

Ina tensed momentarily, eyes flicking to the pages before her and back to James. He held up his book, prepared to back off, but Ina nodded before he could do anything. "That is fine."

"Are you sure?"

Her eyes flicked to the blueprints, then back to him. "Yes."

There was no room for argument, so James leaned in to look at the pages. It was the closest they'd been to each other for weeks.

James' heart burned. Despite their talk, despite their combined determination to go back to how things had been _before_ , things were different. His skin burned and his stomach churned, and James wished for normalcy—

—but this was their new normal. James was tearing himself to bits, anxious and angry all at once because he didn't want to lose Ina to these fickle emotions. Didn't want to lose the freckles dotting her face, or the way she cocked her head while committing new information to memory, or the way her eyes sparkled as she told a deadpan joke.

He just wished he knew how to keep her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot emphasize enough how much i appreciate everyone's comments. reading your kind words gave me the fuel i needed to keep pushing forward; this fic is as much yours as it is mine <3
> 
> feel free to hit me up at [@billiam-bones](https://billiam-bones.tumblr.com) on tumblr! i had a bit of a tumbly existential crisis late December, so i'll be a lot more active there than i am on @the-yelmore


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James is tired, and sleep is not forthcoming. He pays Ina a late night visit, and feelings ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for being patient! this is a short chapter, but i hope it was well worth the wait! i'll save the rest of my blathering for the end notes; i'm sure all of y'all are ready to read :P

James wished life came with a pause button. Then he could escape on the days where everything was too much, and take a moment to scream when those moments stretched into weeks.

Nights were the worst.

He spent seven and a half hours praying for sleep, or for the hateful sound of raid sirens to give him an excuse to be awake, or for his head to fall off of his shoulders as it so often threatened to do now. But that final half hour, when his eyes grew dry and his thoughts grew sluggish, was never enough.

He needed more than thirty minutes to escape the gunfire and calculations tucked behind his eyelids. But he couldn't sleep. There was no escape.

Lately, his nights were haunted by that horrible fucking simulation, with the terrible beast and the wretched screams of his teammates going down one by one. 

Failure wasn't an option. _And yet._

He'd failed.

Crushed by the weight of failure and the fate of an entire world upon his shoulders, James stumbled out of bed.

He didn't think; he'd been doing too much of that lately.

Instead, he walked, letting his feet take him through the familiarly uniform hallways. His mind was numb with exhaustion, _and yet._

One foot, then the other. They blurred together. One, then the other. He passed through the hallways like a sleepwalker, and perhaps he was. Maybe this was all a nightmare that he'd wake up from, sweaty and scared, only to realize that the world wasn't ending after all.

Except that he was here, outside of Ina's bunk dressed in sweats and a ratty t-shirt. Automatically, without sparing a thought for consequences or rules or implications, James knocked.

No one answered.

What was he doing? It was late; Ina was asleep, and Nadia would flay him alive if he woke her up. He should go.

Ina opened the door.

"James?"

He smiled weakly. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up."

Ina shrugged and yawned, then went back into her room. She left the door open. They had done this often when they were younger, when they were new to the Garrison and desperate for anything or anyone familiar in their lives.

He followed her in, noting Nadia's empty bed. He wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep.

Ina sat on her bed, feet tucked under her thighs, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. James closed the door and wandered in, feeling lost in the small, but cozy, room.

Books and knick-knacks were stored according to Garrison regulations. The room felt lived in--the opposite of James's sterile bedroom.

Nadia's side was immaculate and colorful. She'd framed several of Ryan's photos of the crew, and she'd arranged those around pictures of her family and friends from home. A rock sat in place of a vase of flowers, glittering softly in the dim light.

"You can sit, you know," Ina said, voice muddy with sleep.

James rubbed his shoulder. His knees felt weak; he felt weak. 

"Is everything okay?"

James sat. "No."

Ina waited for him to say something else, and he struggled to put his thoughts in order. How could he explain the jumbled mess of fear and doubt in his mind to someone else when he couldn't make sense of it himself? 

He tried anyway. "Do you ever feel like you're not good enough?"

She didn't have to ask what he meant. "No. My scores suggest that I am the best fit for my position on MFE-Ares."

"Obviously," James said, because it was true. "But what if 'best suited' isn't good enough?"

Ina hesitated. "My best will have to be enough."

"And if it isn't?"

Ina huffed. "What are you trying to say?"

James rubbed his eyes. What was he going on about? He knew Ina struggled with subtext, and here he was, hoping she'd understand the thoughts that had tortured him for weeks now. "I guess I'm trying to say I'm scared."

"That seems rational."

"Yeah."

Ina sighed and pulled her blanket into her lap. "Would it help if I said that I am scared too?"

James blinked. He hadn't considered that the others felt as he did. He'd been too caught up in his brooding to think of anyone but himself. Knowing that Ina was scared... something _clicked_. "Yeah," he said. "It does, actually."

"Is that why you can't sleep?"

"I never said that!" James spluttered, as if he hadn't woken Ina at an ungodly hour to have this talk.

Ina stared at him vacantly.

"Was it that obvious?"

"Well, even if it was not three a.m., the bags under your eyes were telling. Paired with your increased irritability and unusual tendency to zone out during important meetings, insomnia was the rational conclusion."

Of course she knew. "How do you deal with it?"

"I do not have insomnia."

"Not that—the fear." James leaned forward, searching Ina's face for answers. "The thoughts that you'll give your best shot and fail anyway."

"Mostly I don't," Ina said quietly. "But at times, when those thoughts impede my performance, I remind myself that I _am_ the best candidate for this task. No one else can do what I can, so I must be present to do it. If nothing else, we are buying humanity time while the Garrison's upper echelon finds another path, or until Voltron comes to our aid." She paused. "My best will have to be enough."

James nodded. She had rationalized the issue, made it seem small and simple. Honorable, even. But— "What about that simulation?"

He didn't have to say which one.

"It was unbeatable," Ina said.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" James snapped, shooting to his feet and pacing through the room. "There should have been a way to beat it!"

"James," Ina said. "It was not meant to be won."

"What?" James said incredulously. "How does that even work?"

"As much as I would like for every mission to be a complete success, such a feat is statistically impossible. We will some fights, and we will lose others."

"So... why make us lose now?"

Ina cocked her head. "For someone so smart, you can be extremely dense."

There was a trace of a smile on her lips, and that dulled the bite of her words. "It's a reasonable question!" he quipped.

"Think, James!" Ina said, head _thunking_ against the wall. "Why would they put us through tests that we are meant to fail, knowing full well that we will face failure again in the future? Why would they risk hurting our confidence in such perilous times? What would they gain from that?"

Oh. Gears whirred in his brain. "They'd see how we respond to stress."

"Not to stress. To _failure_."

James sat. Chuckled dryly. "Guess I'm failing more than just that sim."

"You are not failing."

James raised an eyebrow.

"Not yet," Ina amended. "But you cannot think of everything in terms of _pass or fail_. Life does not function so logically, nor so clearly."

"It'd be nice if it did, though."

"Yes, it would."

They sat in silence. Ina yawned, and James tried, unsuccessfully, to get comfortable in the desk chair. The moment stretched until Ina patted her mattress and tossed a pillow at James. He squawked indignantly, catching the pillow clumsily.

"It is late," she said by way of explanation.

It _was_ late. That was the only reason James took Ina up on her offer and crawled into her bed. Not because of his desire for her touch, for the press of her thigh against his, nor any more intimate reasons. Certainly not because he was tired and drained, and Ina made all of that go away, if only for a moment.

They sat awkwardly for a moment, stalled by this breach of both Garrison protocol and their own. The moment passed quickly.

Gravity and exhaustion took hold of them both, and James's eyes slid shut. His head fell onto Ina's shoulder. She was warm, and smelled like soap and a lovely floral deodorant.

"Thanks, by the way," James mumbled from the edge of sleep.

"For what?"

"For being you."

"James," Ina said, voice taught, wavering. Urgent.

James sat up, alert. But all was well; Ina sat softly beside him, and though her expressions had always been different from everyone else featured in James's life, he knew her well enough to know that what was written across her face was chalk full of _want_.

Ina's eyes flitted to his lips, and he understood. Leaned forward, watching her for any sign that this was unwelcome.

Ina shivered.

James froze, hand bunching in Ina's covers.

And then Ina was guiding him forward with a hand on the back of his neck. "Kiss me, stupid."

James was all too happy to oblige and pepper her lips with kisses, to caress her cheeks and melt into her touch. He surfaced, breathless, and took in the sight of Ina flushed and glowing before him, eyes lidded, breath uneven. He wanted to remember her like this.

_Needed_ to remember, some small, frazzled part of him insisted, because they couldn't do this again. Not safely, nor within acceptable parameters. Even this infraction could jeopardize the very fate of humanity...

...then again, it was the end of the world. Who was he to hold himself to a standard that he didn't even expect those around him to manage? Why should he stop living while he saved the world?

_Fuck protocol_ , James thought, and kissed Ina again. _It's the end of the world._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gAH
> 
> writing has been difficult, lately. partly because of health concerns, partly because capitalism is bullshit and people are assholes. i've gotten back into a steady routine, so i'm hoping to get the final two chapters out soon-ish. gonna avoid making promises though, as i always seem to jinx myself when i do that.
> 
> let me know what you think! i feel like my writing has gotten a lot more self-assured since i started this fic, but lord knows i'm still a needy fella who craves validation. feel free to comment or hmu at [my tumblr](https://alcego.tumblr.com)!

**Author's Note:**

> you can blame s7 for the simulation idea. come cuss me out in the comments or [at my tumblr](https://theyelmore.tumblr.com) and maybe i'll finally figure out how to dial back on the angst. maybe
> 
> no promises


End file.
